


Sunday

by AmyriadfthINGs



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex, Orgasm, Prompt Fill, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyriadfthINGs/pseuds/AmyriadfthINGs
Summary: Oh heavenly Sunday.





	Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amoama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoama/gifts).



> For the promopts fiery, dew, drenched; themes fire and water

The morning dew doesn´t stay around long once the August sun has extended its fiery rays across the patch of green-brown land that is the chicken´s scratching ground behind the laborers´ living quarters. 

The uniform cabins are sparsely furnished and contain two rooms each. In this, his bedroom, Thomas has at his disposal a bed, a chest for his clothes, and a chair. If his whole home was only his bed at this moment, he would be content. 

A lucky coincidence has it that James appeared like a vision brought down from the heavens on a Saturday evening when their work was almost done, which makes today Sunday and their only day off. This means no toiling in the fields today, only James, James, James to fill his mind and body and soul with. He can´t stop thinking his name, speaking it in his head. He tries it out loud to himself, to his lover that he feels by his side, to hear it spoken in this room. “James.” James sits up and looks at Thomas, takes his hand. There are no other words right now. He lifts Thomas´ hand to his lips and kisses it. He caresses Thomas´ face, kisses him, long and slow. James pulls Thomas back down and on top of him. They both then fumble for a moment to get the sheet they used for a blanket out of the way where it keeps them from each other, no longer used to their tangle and the sensation of having another body close, the body of the one you love; not used to the joy and physical thrill of it, how it leaves one out of breath, the reality of another person´s skin on your own, the sudden tickle of hairs, the warmth of unexpected friction. They are surprised by inconsequential collisions of bones and teeth, the weight of another, and they laugh at it all, and never stop kissing or touching, and they get to hear their gasps of pleasure mix. 

Thomas cries out as James gets him off with swift, sure strokes, feeling James teeth where he´s biting his neck, suspended over Thomas, riding out his own high as he comes inside him, pressing against him and pushing out hot air against Thomas´ throat. 

It´s heaven. This is it. No other thing could ever be this good. Thomas rests his forehead against the side of James´ neck, their sweat mingling there, just another thing about them that´s blending together. Ragged breaths come against his ear and the side of his face, warm and humid, like the air they made around them. He holds onto James, who is curved above him. James stays inside him for an outstretched moment, and it´s still too soon when he pulls out, but he does so slowly. 

Drops of James´ sweat fall on him, but Thomas is just as drenched. The heat is moving rapidly into their room. James collapses onto the sheets next to him, panting. 

“Can we please stay here all day? “James asks, voice sounding raspy. “We might die of dehydration, “Thomas replies, smiling. “I´ll get us a jug of water in a moment, “James mumbles, already dozing off. 

“You do that, my love, “Thomas whispers and skids further down the bed to join him for a nap. He wonders how many respites they can fit into one sacred, heavenly Sunday.


End file.
